i told my therapist about you,
while your lips were still slathered alllll over my body.
i showed her the places we had been,
and all the things we had seen.
i told her what lies underneath that pretty
                                              pretty
skin of yours,
and i told her how i knew.
i spelt out your name as she scribbled it on her cute little clipboard,
i told her about the   first     night
and the      second
and the   fourth
and that time in the closet.
i told her everything,
i really just wanted to   get
                                                  you
                                      out  
of my brain,
it didn't matter if saying these things put me in  sososo  much pain.
because you've  moved   on  so why can't i?
i told my therapist about you,
but i still can't tell you
                                           goodbye.  
i know i'm  s t u p i d,
for holding on this l
                               o
                                n
                             ­    g,
i know it's useless,
for wishing you weren't                              gone.
but my words carry on like a heartbeat
s     l      o      w
steady
                          fast
u   s   e   d
  n    t   a   y
i   keep   keep   keep  breaking and breaking and breaking and
i told my therapist about you.

I want you
and a home to come home to
or maybe to come home to you
or maybe a home in you
or maybe I just want you.

I really want to say
I hope you're okay.

I see something on your face, a familiar grimace.
I want to tell you, I suffer from mental illness.
And all too well, I can recognize your pain;
I too, have struggled under the overpowering strain;
The suffering caused by a malfunctioning brain.

I see how you've started to avoid and withdraw.
I see enormous stress in the tightness of your jaw.
I see you grasping, desperate for some alleviation,
from this curse of complete anguish and frustration.
I see you like this not because I wish to pry.
In you, I see myself. Allow me to clarify.

I have been where you are, totally lost and alone.
Hiding from friends and family, ignoring my phone.
There were many times I felt held together only by thread.
Eventually I decided that my only option was to be dead.
But there were no lights at the end of any tunnels.
The attempt failed, and I continued my struggles.

Then someone reached out a hand for me,
offering somewhere safe for me to be.
Longing for relief, feeling defeated, I said yes.
And looking at me now, you would never guess,
the darkness that dwelled deep in my head.
Today I'm better, and quite glad I'm not dead.

So, I'm here, should you ever want to talk.
Please, feel free, tell me to go take a walk.

But I swear, my intentions are honest and kind.
I want to help you take back control of your mind.
This is just a hand held out, from me to you.
I urge you to take it, and I'll help you through.

Peer to peer, I'm offering you solace.
If ever you need me, I'll be there, I promise.

At times I wonder.
Do you ever
think of me.
While gazing
at the stars.
When revisiting
the past.

Or am I
just
a memory.
Long lost,
forgotten.
Buried
deep down
in the shards
of time.